


Backseat

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [111]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 38 lifetimes, 38 lifetimes fic, AU, F/M, the red nose diaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 06:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Carmen celebrates her 40th birthday with a quiet dinner.





	Backseat

**Author's Note:**

> Follow-up to part 9 of 38 Lifetimes, [Panton Street](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001871).

“Happy birthday to you!”

“Oh god…”

“Happy birthday to you!”

“Ugh!”

“Happy birthday dear Carmen!”

“I hate this.”

“We love you, Aunt Carmen!”

“I love you so much, Heidi.”

“Happy birthday to you!”

Heidi Solomon nodded at the cake that had been placed on the table in front of Carmen by their waiter, an older Neapolitan gentleman who was currently putting out cups for espresso. “Need help?”

Carmen nodded. “Yeah!”

Doron wriggled in her lap. “Blow it!”

And so she did. Leaning in, Carmen closed her eyes and, with the help of her best friend’s children, she blew out the candles on her birthday cake.

It was the Solomons’ last night in town, the entirety of the children’s spring break spent exploring London and its amusements. There was a day trip to Bath so Annie and Carmen could indulge themselves in their love of the work of Jane Austen. Carmen babysat one night, ordering in pizza and movies with the kids while Annie and Aaron got to go on a proper date, their first in ages.

And now it was Saturday, the last in March. In the morning, the Solomons would leave for home, their charming house in a sleepy suburb of Chicago. But that night, it was Carmen’s birthday, her fortieth, and so they sat down to a large Italian supper.

Heidi carefully cut slices for herself and her brother, at which point Annie took over to serve herself, her husband, and Carmen. The cake was Carmen’s favorite — yellow layer cake with bittersweet chocolate frosting, her name outlined in rainbow sprinkles on its top.

“So like I was saying…” Annie said, prompting Aaron and Carmen to groan.

“No, I haven’t seen him,” Carmen said.

“I don’t believe you,” Annie declared. “All this time?”

Carmen nodded. “All this time.”

“You’ve lived here for three and a half years.” Annie waved her hand in the air. “You broke up almost three years ago.”

“Yes,” replied Carmen. “I remember.”

“And you haven’t run into him?” Annie’s eyes widened.

“Not even close.”

“Car…”

“It’s a big city, Anne,” Aaron pointed out. “And it’s not like Carmen hasn’t been busy.”

“Work is good?” Annie already knew the answer, but she liked to hear Carmen say it.

“Yes. Very good.” Carmen’s nose wrinkled a little as she frowned. “Maybe too good.”

Annie rubbed Carmen’s shoulders. “Is it still insane because of Brexit?”

Carmen nodded. “Yeah, but I’ve gotten used to it. Less travel so, as you saw, I finally got some proper furniture.”

“You have a lovely home,” Heidi interrupted. “I especially like that guest bedroom.”

Annie snorted. “Nice try, child. No solo visits until you’re at  _ least _ fourteen.”

“But that’s three years away!”

“You want me to make it sixteen?” Annie narrowed her eyes.

Heidi pouted but said nothing. When she resumed eating her cake, Carmen leaned over to kiss her forehead in consolation.

“Maybe by then,” Carmen said, “your mom will let me take you to Paris as well.”

“Really?!” Heidi cried as Annie scoffed “Really?!”

Carmen shrugged. “It’s my 40th birthday. It’s what I want.”

The cake was boxed up for Carmen, and a black taxi was hailed for the Solomons. Annie peered at the interior of the car as it pulled up to the curb.

“Are you sure we can’t drop you off?” Annie asked. “It’s plenty of room.”

Carmen nodded. “I want to walk a little first,” she replied. “We’re still on for breakfast tomorrow?”

“9:00 at  [ Novi ](https://ottolenghi.co.uk/rovi) ,” Annie reminded her. She kissed Carmen on the cheek, and pulled her in for a hug. “I love you. Thank you for this wonderful week.”

“Thank you for coming,” Carmen said. “I’ll try to come in July or August, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Annie said. One more kiss from her, and from the children, and a hug from Aaron before they hustled into the cab bound for their rented flat in Notting Hill.

It was just past 10:30, according to Carmen’s watch. And then a text:  _ here. _

Carmen knew where “here” was. Carmen knew what “here” meant. She looked up, just in time for a dark sedan to pull up in front of her. Before she could take one step, and then another, in her approach, the driver’s side door opened. A familiar smile, if tentative, from Tom’s driver.

“Thank you,” she murmured as he opened the backdoor for her. She made it into the car in one piece, not too clumsily even though she wore heels that were perhaps slightly sexier than dinner with old friends but were just perfect for sitting in the backseat of Tom Hiddleston’s car.

“Carmen,” a low voice breathed in her ear. Turning to her left, she was overwhelmed. By his hair, his smile, his cologne. His eyes, which seemed to devour her. She felt naked, and a little short of breath.

“I…” She gulped. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Tom’s smile faltered. His brow knotted, he looked worried. “Are you well? We can take you home.”

“No, it’s just…” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Long time.”

“I know,” Tom said. “Too long.”

Carmen squeezed his hand again. “How did it go tonight?”

“Well,” Tom said. He coughed a little. “I’m feeling a little unwell, so…”

“Oh!” Carmen bit her bottom lip. “We can reschedule.”

“No,” Tom said. “It is your birthday after all.”

“Okay. If you insist.” She showed him the box. “Leftover cake, if you like.”

“All cake is good to me.” Tom glanced up, suddenly aware that he hadn’t yet instructed his driver on where to go. “Where to, my lady?”

Carmen shrugged. “Where did we used to go?”

Tom considered. “The bookshop?’

“It must be closed by now,” Carmen said, gently.

“Coffee?”

“It’s too late for caffeine, I think.”

“Nightclub?”

Carmen laughed. “We never used to clubbing.”

“We didn’t?” When Carmen nodded, Tom shrugged. “Care to try it now?”

Carmen blinked. She looked at him, into his eyes. They were tired but bright. Familiar.

“What about a walk?” Carmen tilted her head toward him. “Your sweet little dog.”

Tom chuckled. “You want to meet…”

“Yes!” Carmen piped up. “It’s what I want.”

“Then I guess I can cancel the flowers…” Tom joked.

“Oh no, I want those!”

“And the strippers…”

“I need them!” Carmen laughed, and when she did Tom smelled the air she breathed. It was sweet with sugar, bitter with coffee. Warm. Damp. He got lost, just for a moment, and his eyes lingered on her lips. They were bare, scrubbed free of lipstick after an evening of feasting.

“I…” He began to say, but Carmen stopped him with a kiss. Open, soft. Just a press that, when she inhaled, Tom deepened so he could taste her. He wound his arms around her and cupped the back of her head. So close, so tight, and she had no choice but to open herself to him. The cake in its box slid to the floor. The driver kept his eyes ahead but left an ear open to the sounds of Tom and Carmen having having their slow, breathless reunion.

Tom was exhausted after the night’s performance, the bows, dodging Zawe’s questions about where he was off to so quickly. They were casual, not exclusive. But he felt he was doing something wrong. But he also knew there was nothing else he could be doing. Nowhere else he could be. Nobody else he wanted to kiss more than Carmen.

“Tom?” Carmen murmured between soft pecks to her lips, her jaw, her cheeks.

“Hmm?”

“Ask me again,” Carmen said, nipping at his jaw.

Tom sighed, and hugged her. “Where to, my lady?” He repeated.

Carmen kissed him. “You know.”

Tom nodded, then leaned up a bit. He cleared his throat, and said, to his driver, “Home.”


End file.
